


love is you (the kiss my sunshine remix)

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-18 16:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Sometimes—well, most of the time—Fujigaya can be really annoying.





	love is you (the kiss my sunshine remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Grace my body with your hands](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/330447) by doremifasorashige. 



> reposted from agck. written for jentfic_remix 2012 and cotton candy bingo (single line: body image, cooking with someone, birthday (wildcard), tradition (old), and lead/follow).

Sometimes—well, most of the time—Fujigaya can be really annoying.

Kitayama knows this quite well, having worked with him for so long, performing and acting. On stage or in front of a camera, he’s erotic and enticing, but when no one who matters is around, he’s calm and even a little serious. And once he’s comfortable around someone, he doesn’t shut up.

Kitayama supposes that Fujigaya is just very, very comfortable around him. So much that he’s not paying attention to what he’s doing, babbling on about everything and nothing as he chops aimlessly at the vegetables.

“You’re going to cut your fingers off,” Kitayama mutters as he grabs Fujigaya by the wrist, startling him so much that the knife falls from his hand and clangs in the sink. “If you’re not going to do it right, get out of the way.”

Shrugging, Fujigaya turns on his heel and sits at the table, busying himself by checking the temperature of the grill. September is a bit early for the kotatsu, but it’s set up anyway, and Kitayama hides a smile as he remembers how cold Fujigaya gets sometimes.

“You know,” he says pointedly, “the whole point of this is to have you cook for me. It’s  _my_  birthday.”

“You kicked me out!” Fujigaya replies with a very big, very fake pout.

“It’s not even your turn,” Kitayama points out. “Watta was supposed to cook for me this year.”

Fujigaya turns away from the table and hugs his knees as he watches Kitayama finish cutting the vegetables. “He had something else he wanted to do tonight.”

“Did he,” Kitayama responds flatly, already knowing it’s a lie. Fujigaya must think they all don’t talk or something; naturally Yokoo had called Kitayama earlier to express his confusion as to why Fujigaya would suddenly want to take his place for Kitayama’s birthday dinner. While Kitayama likes to think it was strictly for the pleasure of his company, realistically he is certain that Fujigaya has ulterior motives.

“He did,” Fujigaya insists, and Kitayama lets it go. Even Fujigaya must know what a dumb lie that is—Yokoo’s the one who started this silly tradition anyway, years and years ago when they were all trying to bond together as a group. For everyone’s birthday, he’d declared, another member would cook them dinner. He had a color-coded chart and everything, assigning all seven of them a different “chef” every year. It wasn’t always on the actual date due to their schedules, but the point was that they got to know each other a little better on an individual level.

They all know each other pretty well by now, but the tradition continues. Yokoo is a sap like that. Kitayama doesn’t mind at all, particularly this year, since his birthday is on a Monday and people with normal jobs have to work. Though he’d already celebrated over the weekend with his friends, spending the day posing for photoshoots and going home to an empty house seems like a rather dull birthday.

Even if he has to cook his own dinner because Fujigaya is incompetent as well as annoying.

Yakiniku is simple enough, which he supposes is why Fujigaya had chosen to make it (or attempt to), and it doesn’t take long for Kitayama to boil potatoes and finish chopping the vegetables. He’s almost done when he notices that Fujigaya has been awfully quiet, sneaking a glance over his shoulder to find curious eyes watching him.

“Yes?” he asks.

Fujigaya makes a dismissive noise, flashing a grin as he hops to his feet and starts to set out the meat, which has been marinating in yakiniku sauce and looks rather tasty. Kitayama supposes that Fujigaya isn’t completely useless after all, and together they take the meat and vegetables over to the table.

He shouldn’t be surprised when Fujigaya sits on the same side of the table as him, their arms bumping as they both start to lay food on the grill. They’re so close that Kitayama can smell Fujigaya’s shampoo, which is coconut-y and makes him think of piña coladas and Hawaiian shirts. It’s not a bad association by any means.

“Did you at least make the sauce?” is all Kitayama asks.

Fujigaya looks sheepish. “My mom did?”

Shaking his head, Kitayama laughs and watches the meat and vegetables cook until he’s halted by what feels like ice cubes attacking his ankles under the table. He’s not proud of the high-pitched yelp he makes, though now Fujigaya is the one laughing as Kitayama’s eyes narrow at him.

“If your toes are that cold, you should wear socks,” he says.

Fujigaya gives him another one of those fake pouts. “They’re in my closet and that’s far.”

It’s impossible to win with this one, Kitayama concludes as he just winces until Fujigaya’s toes steal his body heat. He distracts himself with the food, flipping it over and breathing in the delicious aroma as he waits for it to cook enough to eat. Finally he watches Fujigaya spear a chunk of potato and assumes that this is the cue to dig in, except that the potato is moving closer to his face instead of Fujigaya’s.

He starts to open his mouth, a natural reaction, until he feels the heat steaming from the potato and backs away. “It’s hot,” he says.

“Ah, sorry.” Fujigaya brings the potato to his own lips, but instead of eating it, he blows on it a few times before returning it to Kitayama, who just accepts it and starts to chew. “Better?”

“It’s good,” Kitayama says through his mouthful, and Fujigaya grins proudly. “I boil excellent potatoes.”

Fujigaya scoffs and grabs a piece of meat for himself. Kitayama’s chopsticks remain on the plate as he swallows the potato and opens his mouth pointedly. When Fujigaya notices this, he laughs and just picks up another piece of meat. “You think just because it’s your birthday, you’re entitled to be a brat?”

“Yes,” Kitayama answers simply, and Fujigaya pushes the meat into his mouth a little too roughly. Kitayama eats it regardless, closing his eyes and letting out a happy moan at the taste.

“How are you twenty-seven years old?” Fujigaya asks seriously, and Kitayama tries not to choke on his laugh.

He swallows and retorts, “You say that like you’re not two years younger than me.”

Fujigaya shrugs. “It just seems so  _old_.”

“I am not old,” Kitayama tells him with an elbow to the gut. “Why are you even here?”

The question surprises even him, so out of place with the light atmosphere, but Fujigaya just smiles and lays his head on Kitayama’s shoulder. “Because I like you.”

“No, really,” Kitayama says, twitching as he feels Fujigaya’s eyelashes on his collarbone.

“Fine, don’t believe me.”

Kitayama blinks as it occurs to him that Fujigaya might be serious, but before he can get lost in his thoughts, another piece of meat comes barreling towards his mouth. Fujigaya leans up a bit but doesn’t pull away, his chin resting on Kitayama’s shoulder as his arm snakes around his waist.

“Suave, Taisuke,” Kitayama says, because it feels natural to tease him right now.

“You’re the one with the moves, not me,” Fujigaya replies, holding him closer now that Kitayama isn’t going to stop him. All things considered, it feels nice—warm, inviting, and natural. Kitayama’s heart starts beating faster and he knows Fujigaya can feel it, because he can feel Fujigaya’s about to beat out of his chest with how nervous he’s pretending not to be.

But all he does is open his mouth again, waiting patiently, and Fujigaya chuckles a little as he keeps feeding him. He has to stop when they run out of cooked food, reluctantly lining up the grill for the second run, and they both watch the meat and vegetables sizzle while relaxing in their embrace.

“You’re short,” Fujigaya says suddenly, making a big show of stretching his neck before returning his chin to Kitayama’s shoulder.

“Just finding this out?” Kitayama replies, a little testily. He’s very aware of his height, especially being in a group with Tamamori, though it hasn’t bothered him much—until right now.

“Well, no,” Fujigaya says. “It’s just more noticeable now.”

“Then don’t sit so close to me.”

He can almost feel Fujigaya’s frown, but he doesn’t budge. “You’ve always been short.”

Kitayama feels considerably less insulted as Fujigaya brings his other arm down to hug him properly, bringing him even more warmth. “I think you need your head examined,” is all he says.

“Clearly,” Fujigaya replies, and Kitayama isn’t sure what they’re talking about anymore.

They sit in silence, Fujigaya sporadically poking at the food and turning it over until it’s done, when he picks up right where he left off feeding Kitayama. After a few bites, Kitayama notices that Fujigaya’s not eating and grabs his chopsticks for the first time, picking up a piece of meat and holding it out for him. Fujigaya doesn’t move at first, and Kitayama turns to the side to find the younger man regarding him strangely.

“No?” he says, starting to pull his hand back, but then Fujigaya leans forward to take the meat between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. A bit of sauce splatters on his chin and Fujigaya manages to get it with his tongue, but not before Kitayama thinks about doing the exact same thing.

“What was that for?” Fujigaya asks.

“Just following the leader,” Kitayama answers evenly.

“You’re the leader, not me,” Fujigaya says, and the way he takes his bottom lip in his teeth has Kitayama focusing on nothing else.

“Not really,” Kitayama mumbles. “I haven’t been the leader in a long time.”

“I’m not talking about at work,” Fujigaya clarifies, offering a small smile as his eyes turn soft.

It’s a split second decision, one that has Kitayama taking matters into his own hand and reaching for Fujigaya’s face, his thumb gently rubbing Fujigaya’s jaw as he presses their lips together. He feels Fujigaya gasp but doesn’t stop, putting all of himself into this kiss that seems to knock him back from the force. Fujigaya’s bangs tickle his forehead and he lifts his hand to push them out of the way, inadvertently tilting Fujigaya’s head and deepening their kiss.

Fujigaya tastes like yakiniku, and Kitayama doesn’t think he’ll be able to eat yakiniku ever again without thinking of kissing Fujigaya. He would have never pegged Fujigaya as a passive kisser, but the younger man stays true to his word as he follows Kitayama’s lead and doesn’t flick out his tongue until Kitayama does.

It’s Kitayama who moans first, a faint sound that doesn’t quite make it out of his throat, but he can tell Fujigaya feels it by the way he tightens his arms around him. Kitayama turns the rest of his body towards Fujigaya and now Fujigaya is embracing him from the front, chest to chest as they lose themselves in the kiss.

The smell of something burning has Kitayama jumping back, rushing to turn off the grill and save the slightly charred meat and vegetables while Fujigaya just laughs breathlessly. Kitayama shoots back a glare, which quickly melts at the way Fujigaya’s leaning back on his hands, face flushed and lips swollen from kissing.

Then a familiar tune sounds, and Fujigaya smiles around his closed lips that are humming the chorus to “Love is You.” Kitayama wants to roll his eyes, but he pounces instead, knocking Fujigaya back towards the floor and landing on top of him, crushing their mouths together for a kiss that takes his breath away. He brings his hand to Fujigaya’s face, feeling the soft skin under his fingertips, and he takes pride in the way Fujigaya shivers from the simple touch alone.

“Do you always hum our songs?” he asks, pressing the words into Fujigaya’s lips.

“Maybe,” Fujigaya replies facetiously. “Is that bad?”

Kitayama just shakes his head. “No.”

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Kitayama admits that Fujigaya isn’t that annoying after all.


End file.
